oh i confess, i confess to the rumor of us
by SlntLullaby
Summary: in which bucket and skinner play a game of confessions and learn some new things about each other. it's kind of angsty, but cute at the same time.


_Bucket and Skinner's Epic Adventures_**_  
_**

Pairing: Sucket (Bucket/Skinner)

Written by: _SlntLullaby_

Based off of Epic Haunting. I have no idea how I came up with this idea from that, but my psychotic mind did. I started it that night... but then I lost inspiration as I do with basically every single story of mine. But I just got it back for it and finished it tonight. So here you go.

(Because more fanfiction needs to be written for this show. There's not enough, and I need more Sucket stories.)

**Oh I confess, I confess to the rumor of us.**

* * *

After they had finished their tacos and Skinner had washed the make-up off his face and changed out of his zombie clothes, Bucket and Skinner sat on the couch in silence, more calm than they had been before, when they were scared out of their wits.

Skinner looked over at Bucket and broke the silence, "Hey, wanna play a game? You know, since we're gonna be here for a few more hours anyway."

Bucket shrugged, looking back at Skinner. "Sure, why not? What game? There's no outdated board games, so..."

Skinner chuckled and said, "Dude, even if there _were _outdated board game we would _not _be playing them. But I was thinking we could play a game where we confess stuff to each other. Like stuff that we don't already know about each other."

Bucket gave him a dubious look. "Uh dude, we've been best friends for our whole lives... don't we already know everything about each other?"

"You never know bro," Skinner replied, smirking. "Look, I'll start. So when I ran out before and I finally noticed you weren't behind me, I was really, really worried dude."

"You were worried about _me_? Psh, I'm tough man, I could've handled it," Bucket said, giving Skinner a fake serious look before breaking into laughter. "That's cute though, that you were worried."

"Yeah, well. You're my best friend. I don't know what I would do if something happened to you," Skinner told Bucket, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.

Bucket flashed a smile at Skinner and said, "So it's my turn now?"

"Oh, right, yeah. You go," Skinner replied, shaking his thoughts away and forcing a smile onto his face.

"Alright, hm... I really hate my nose," Bucket said, putting a hand up to cover it.

Skinner tilted his head curiously and asked, "Why?"

"It's just... I don't know. I hate the way it's shaped. It's too big, and it's too wide and I just hate it. It's an ugly nose man," Bucket replied, hand still over his nose. Skinner shook his head and pulled Bucket's hand away from his nose.

"Your nose isn't ugly dude. It's perfect," he said, flashing his brown haired best friend a toothy grin. This time it was Bucket's turn to blush and look down.

"Okay so you go now," Bucket said, still looking down.

Skinner thought for a moment before saying, "I wish people didn't view me as so stupid. Or, well, I wish I actually _wasn't _so stupid." In that second, Skinner had turned this confession game they had made up from something playful to something serious, and Bucket looked at his best friend in sympathy. Skinner really wasn't stupid. Yeah, sometimes he made stupid choices and got himself (and usually Bucket as well) into messes because of his childlike behavoir, but he wasn't stupid, contrary to what everyone else thought. He knew everything that was going on, and he knew what people said, and he knew what he felt. He acted like a child most of the time, and had a wild imagination, but when Skinner was serious, he was _serious._ He _could_ hold a serious conversation and act like a completely different person than his usual self.

"A lot of people might think you're stupid, but you're not. I'm completely serious dude, you're not stupid. And don't ever let anyone tell you any different," he said, placing a hand on Skinner's shoulder. "Got that?"

Skinner nodded and said, "Thanks bro."

Bucket had to think before he said his next confession. He didn't want it to be something that didn't really exactly matter. He wanted it to be something that really made them think. But he didn't want to say anything _too _deep yet. Finally, he settled on saying, "You know that rich heiress girl you liked? Catherine?" Skinner nodded and Bucket continued. "I hated her. Like _really _hated her. Not because she was mean or anything, because she wasn't. She was actually really nice. But just... I hated her because you liked her."

Skinner looked confused. "Why would you hate her just because I liked her?"

"I kind of hate every girl you like. Because I feel like... they're going to come in and you're gonna totally fall for them and then they're just gonna take you away from me. And that then you'll be gone. Just like that," Bucket said, feeling embarassed for admitting such a thing. Skinner hid his smile.

"Bucket. No one will _ever _take me away from you dude. You're my best friend and nothing's gonna ever change that. Especially not some girl," Skinner said, giving Bucket a pointed look like he should know better. Bucket smiled, feeling reassured.

"I know, I know. I just get worried sometimes, 'ight homie?" Bucket said, feeling laughter come again as Skinner burst out laughing next to him. Bucket playfully shoved his best friend's shoulder. "Okay, you go. Confess something to me now."

"Wow, pushy much?" Skinner laughed, shoving back. "Okay. So... I hate Kelly a lot of the time, even though she's a great friend and all."

It was Bucket's turn to look confused. "Why would you hate Kelly?"

"I guess kind of the same reason you had for hating Catherine. But, I dunno. You just talk about her a lot and sometimes it feels like I'm losing you when you talk about her," Skinner replied.

"Hey, you just remember the same thing you told me," Bucket said, raising his eyebrows at Skinner. "And okay, here's a confession. I don't really like Kelly that much anymore, actually. I just pretend that I do. I mean, yeah, I still like her, but not very much."

"But... huh? What are you talking about? You're always trying to get her to like you bro," Skinner said, looking dumbfounded.

"Like I said, it's not like I don't like her. She's a great girl. She's beautiful, she's awesome, she's probably the best girl any guy could ask for. But since she's been dating Blake, I've seen how happy he makes her, and I don't wanna get in the way of that. I want her to be happy, and with the right guy. She deserves that. And now that I've started to grow up, I've realized that the right guy probably isn't me." Skinner was smiling widely by the time Bucket finished talking.

"That was really sweet bro. I know it's probably hard to let her go, but you're doing the right thing by moving on. It'll make you happier later," Skinner told him.

"You know, you give really good advice Skinner," Bucket said, looking up at his blonde haired best friend.

Skinner shrugged. "It's no biggie."

"Oh, but it is! You're always so optimistic about everything. I don't know how you do it man. Anyways, your turn for a confession," Bucket said, shaking his head. Skinner's smile slowly dropped from his face and he looked down.

"I'm _sad_ Bucket. I'm really fucking sad," Skinner whispered. If Bucket was just any random person, they'd think Skinner was sad about something happening in the past few moments. But Bucket wasn't just some person; he was Skinner's best friend. And he knew what Skinner meant. He knew that Skinner meant he was _seriously sad._ He just couldn't figure out how his always cheerful and childlike best friend was actually _sad, _and how he couldn't have known. He also didn't know how this game had turned so serious in such little time. But Skinner was right, he had to admit. They actually didn't know some things about each other.

"What do you mean?" Bucket asked anyway, even though both boys knew that Bucket knew what he meant.

"I'm just not happy anymore," Skinner said simply, leaving it at that. Bucket nodded and took a breath, figuring he should just move on and confess again.

"I avoid looking in mirrors, because I see me... and I hate what I see." That caused Skinner to snap his head up.

"Don't you dare go there again Bucket. You remember what I told you before. You're pretty close to perfect."

"I'm not, but thanks dude," Bucket said, smiling a little sadly at him. Skinner always saw the good in people. He could think of one good thing about anyone. He liked to blind himself from the bad until it was unbearable. Bucket wished he could be like that too. But alas, he wasn't. He was full of judgements and grudges and jealousy.

Skinner snapped Bucket out of his thoughts, saying, "I wish my parents loved each other still. All they do is fight now. They hate each other and it kills me. And I can't help but think it's all my fault too."

"It's _not _your fault Skinner. And you know that. Don't ever think that," Bucket said.

"I can't help it. And I mean, at this point, I wish they'd just get a damn divorce already, if they hate each other that much. But oh, _no_, they just say that they'll work it out and fight less so that they can stay together for the kids. Bastards," Skinner said, making air quotations on the 'stay together for the kids' part. Bucket felt Skinner's pain and wished he could do more. He wished he could steal all of his best friend's pain away from him. He wished he could kiss that pained look off of his face.

Bucket widened his eyes from that thought and spoke quickly to shake it away. "I feel so alone a lot of the time."

"You're not alone though. You've got me," Skinner said softly, intertwining his fingers with Bucket's.

"Forever?" Bucket asked, glancing up at the blonde next him.

"And always," Skinner replied, squeezing his best friend's hand a little tighter. Neither boy wanted to let go of the other's hand, so they didn't. Skinner smiled to himself, looking down at their hands. He couldn't help the electricity that seemed to shoot through his veins just from Bucket's touch.

"Your turn bro," Bucket said, chuckling at Skinner who was entranced in his thoughts.

"Oh, right. Well, um, you know all the wipeouts I have surfing?" Bucket nodded and Skinner continued. "Three of the times I had really nasty wipeouts on my board... they weren't accidents."

"You mean..." Bucket trailed off, looking up at his best friend in shock.

"Yeah," Skinner said, looking away ashamedly.

"But... why?" Bucket asked exasperadetly.

"I guess I just didn't see the point in living anymore, and figured I'd rather go while doing something love. You know?" And Bucket nodded, because he _did _know. He knew rather well, and he knew what his next confession had to be.

"I've cut myself before," he said. He cringed to himself as the words pierced through the air and the room fell dead silent. Skinner didn't know how to respond at first. He never would've guessed that Bucket would've ever done something so _stupid. _After a couple minutes of silence, Bucket couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't bear thinking how _disappointed _Skinner must be in him now any longer. "Please say _something_," he said, his voice cracking and sounding so sad.

And Skinner wanted to cry, hearing _his _Bucket sounding so _broken_ and small. Still keeping his hand clasped with his best friend's, Skinner wrapped his free arm around Bucket and squeezed him as tight as he could.

"No, no, baby why would you do something like that to yourself?" Skinner didn't even care that he'd let that 'baby' slip past his lips. And either Bucket didn't notice or he didn't care, because he just squeezed back even tighter and let his bottled up tears flow down his face.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Bucket sobbed into Skinner's warm shoulder. "Please don't hate me. Please don't be disappointed in me."

Skinner shook his head fiercely. "I'm not. Shh, it's okay." He reluctantly pulled his arm away from Bucket, but then quickly wiped the brunette's tears away. "Where are they?" he asked quietly.

Bucket pointed to his chest and Skinner slowly lifted up his shirt. Once he did, he unclasped his hand from Bucket's and started running his fingers over the fading white scars lining Bucket's ribs. And then his eyes landed on a few bright red, fresh cuts.

He shakily pointed to them and said, "What are these? I thought you said that you _have _cut yourself before. Not that you _still do _cut yourself." Bucket hung his head and closed his eyes.

"They're from yesterday. And I... I did it for a reason though."

"What possible reason could you have for cutting yourself Bucket?" Skinner almost shouted, but caught himself, because he didn't want Bucket to think that he was angry at him. Because he wasn't. He could never be for very long.

"I don't... I can't tell you," Bucket said, quickly pulling down his shirt and still avoiding Skinner's gaze. What Bucket really wanted to say was, '_Because I'm in _love _with you, but it's wrong because you're my best friend and you're not gay and I didn't think I was either, but it doesn't matter because you don't and won't ever love me back.' _

"Okay. You don't have to," Skinner replied. Little did Bucket know, but Skinner was thinking something very similar to what he was. It was along the lines of, _'Why would you cause such damage to your beautiful body? I wish I could just save you from yourself. I wish you knew that I loved you. I need you to know.'_

And then Skinner had to tell him. He couldn't not tell him. He couldn't keep it inside anymore. It was _killing _him keeping that secret inside of him.

So he just said it. Skinner looked directly into Bucket's eyes and said simply, "I'm in love with you." Bucket's breath hitched in his throat. It took him a minute to actually comprehend what was just said. Because Skinner had just said the words he'd been waiting to hear for such a long time. He'd _really _said them. Bucket could've sworn that this was all just a dream by now. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched himself. Then he opened them. He was still in the "haunted house" sitting on the dusty old couch, and Skinner was still sitting across from him, looking at him expectantly. _So this _isn't _a dream,_ Bucket thought to himself. Skinner had _really _just said he loved him. Bucket slowly broke into a smile.

"...I love you too, Skin." Skinner widened his eyes, surprised at Bucket's reply. And then he smiled his huge smile. Both boys then leaned into each other and brought their lips together. They both felt electric. Bucket pulled away for a minute and asked Skinner, "How long?"

"How long what?" Skinner asked, smirking. Bucket lightly punched him in the shoulder.

"How long have you loved me for?" Bucket said, looking pointedly at the blonde.

Without hesitation, Skinner replied, "Since that day in sixth grade when Aloe was making fun of me down at the beach and you walked over and just smacked him with your surfboard and knocked him down." They both burst out laughing at the memory. "How long for you?"

"Hm. I don't exactly know. It was always there, I think, but one day, when you called me to say goodnight on videochat, and I was saying how maybe I should just give up on Kelly because I didn't think she would ever love me anyway. And you said to me, 'You don't give up on the people you love.' And then you gave me a little smile and ended the call. And then suddenly, somehow, I just knew that it was always you."

Skinner burst into another smile. "Aw, Bucket, that's so cute."

"Shut up," Bucket said, blushing. Skinner gave Bucket a knowing look and then attacked his best friend's lips again. After kissing for a few minutes, Bucket's eyes snapped open and he started to pull away and look to the right of him. Skinner's eyelids fluttered and he groaned and opened them.

"What is it?" he whined.

"Skinner! We never turned off the webcam!"

And everyone had sat home and watched the whole interaction between the boys. Most of them had a knowing, 'I so called it' look on their face, especially Kelly and Piper Peckinpaugh. As for Aloe, well, he just laughed, but with a look of pure spite on his face. Why? Well that's another story to tell.


End file.
